A Capable Woman: 18/28 - Peter, Nathan, Angela/Arthur, Linderman

Chapter 18

2003

Many people don’t just gauge the passage of time by the lines on their face, but by other things. That time in one’s life when the elevator operator at Saks starts calling you Ma’am instead of Miss. When the man behind the make up counter at Henri Bendels changes his pleasantries to exclude the words, “young lady.” And when it is no longer shocking that you are the mother of a twenty-three-year-old son.

Angela Petrelli measured the passage of time, not by any of those things, but by the amount of pain she had felt and the amount of pain she tried to keep herself from feeling. Angela could claim she could cut out her own heart and do what was needed to get the job done, but it just wasn’t the truth. Oh, she got the job done, that was the truth, but that was as far as it went – the rest was all collateral damage.

It was another dream about fire, which by now Angela felt was nothing more than redundant. It was so hard to figure out sometimes. Was this real, was it a metaphor, or was it both? Sometimes it was both, sometimes it wasn’t. And although she rarely dreamt in metaphors anymore Angela had to be ready for the times when she did. Rarely didn’t mean never; just like being a pre-cog didn’t mean she knew everything, even though at times she had deluded herself into thinking she did. Still, all Angela could do was filter what she saw through her own mind's eye.

Dreams like these were the worse, because they were maddening. And the heat - she could feel the heat and smell the smoke, and see the haze. She found herself running from room to room, ducking and holding her hand up to block the seething heat from her face. A heat that ran through every pore of her being as at every turn Angela found herself trapped. It wasn’t hard to figure this dream out; Angela Petrelli’s house was burning down around her.

Arthur Petrelli woke up one day with a greater sense of purpose than he had once felt. He woke up with a love of life that seemed to have left him years ago. He reveled in his work, his grandchildren and he seemed to appreciate his wife more. No one noticed it more than Angela, herself, as she and Arthur started to become closer than they had in years.

Fighting to protect Claire , the family, a common goal against the Company as they fought together from the inside had brought them closer together in all the respects of a married couple. Still, life was never perfect and the Petrellis never expected it would be – therefore Angela demanded nothing but perfection in every other aspect of her life.

One day Arthur found his wife sitting on the floor, still wearing her coat, looking off into nothingness. She peered up at her husband as he looked down at her on the floor; his eyes were soulful. She hadn’t seen such a look in his eyes for years. He knelt down on the floor in front of her. It looked like Arthur might cry, but he didn’t. Arthur took his hand and bushed a soft tear from the corner of Angela’s eye, and then he laid his head on her chest, as if he was going to cry himself, but he didn’t. The gesture shocked Angela and when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly she hugged him for dear life as if she felt it could be the last time. She never asked him what had happened, or why he’d done it. And she would never know what had prompted it. Still, it was not the last of his odd behavior.

2005

And when Nathan toasted his parents at their fortieth wedding anniversary, he beamed with pride.

“To my parents.” Nathan toasted them at a very large and expensive bash Nathan had thrown in their honor. “Two people who give me hope for the future. I love you both.” And Nathan got a little emotional, but being his parent’s boy, he held it in.

Arthur and Nathan hugged and patted each other on the back. Arthur gripped his son’s shoulder and smiled at him, while Peter looked on from the doorway.

Angela caught Peter’s eyes and she smiled. Only Peter only felt out of place and his mother knew it, but there was nothing Angela could do about it, it was just the way it was right now. To Angela, her son was ruled by nothing but insecurities, but he was young yet. Angela needed to give him a little more credit. She was too busy seeing him as her baby to notice, so much so it would take her too long to realize the boy had grown up while she wasn’t looking.

Arthur stole Angela’s attention from the door and Peter watched as his parent’s took the dance floor.

Arthur cleared his throat for a moment. “The clock is ticking, Angela.” Arthur said softly as they danced alone on the dance floor, talking so only they could hear.

“You think I don’t know that? Plans must be made for this family’s future. This family deserves better. “

"Agreed." He looked at her deeply. “Carlos’s son has become a person of interest.”

“How’s that?”

“Seems he can paint the future.” Arthur paused. “Our future.” He raised his eyebrows.

Angela was intrigued.

“Linderman has a plan I think we’ll both be interested in. Very much so. Well, it’s not just his plan…” Arthur smirked. “And with some hard work it can be our plan.” He had a sense of seriousness in his voice mixed in with that cocky attitude of his. “And if it works… We can finally save this world and this family at the same time. ” He leaned in and kissed Angela on the forehead.

She seemed more concerned than relieved. That would soon change.

All Peter and Nathan saw was their mother and father in a loving moment. And Nathan wished one day he and Heidi would end up like his parents - he had no idea.

Petrelli, Linderman & Petrelli

Angela stood in the cold, antiseptic surroundings of Linderman’s Art archives with her husband to her right and Daniel Linderman off to her left. She and Arthur watched as Linderman pulled out wall after wall of Isaac Mendez’s paintings for her to see. Angela was agog at what she saw, for she felt as if her entire life was being stretched out before her.

“Are these the images from your dreams, Angela?” Linderman asked her.

Arthur looked on silence.

“Yes,” she replied, for they were one and the same. Isaac Mendez was a pre-cog for sure, he had just manifested in a way that suited his character traits: Angela dreamed, he painted.

“Good then.” Arthur took a step forward, his voice was all business. “It’s confirmed.”

So, Angela and Arthur started to forge a plan with Linderman that would stop their sons, their family from burning. A plan that would soon be helped by more people than Daniel, Arthur and Angela – it wasn’t just their plan.

What Angela and Arthur could never have known, at the time, was that Daniel Linderman wasn’t showing them all the Mendez paintings in his collection. Certain pictures of Peter, a town in Odessa, and an unnamed cheerleader, images all locked away in some secluded, darkly lit room. Linderman didn’t know who the cheerleader was yet, but he wanted to find out. And with Peter involved, he knew it should, for now, be the kind of information he should keep to himself. Angela wouldn’t know he knew all this until it was all too late. Soon, Linderman would know the girl's identity, as would Bob and entire company, but that was far into the future.

But before any plans could be hatched, Daniel Linderman had to show Angela Petrelli one final painting – the one that showed destiny and what perhaps her entire life had been leading towards.

“But we haven’t shown her the best part.” Linderman cooed.

Arthur smiled as Linderman pulled out a painting that made Angela’s stomach jump.

Daniel smiled through his beard, turned white by thirty years of madness. “You’ve always been right Angela…that boy of yours is destined for great things.” Linderman whispered in her ear. “Great things.”

Angela could only brim with pride and unmitigated, unadulterated power at the painting she saw in front of her: Her son Nathan standing, arms folded, in the oval office – the office of The President of the United States.

And Angela Petrelli got what others in the room might describe as a powerful look on her face for Angela Petrelli had faith again – Angela Petrelli believed.

Thompson was a most trusted man at the Company. He had risen to a supervisory position very quickly, the eyes and ears for the higher ups at the Company, the founders. Some might say he even helped start the Company, although he knew better – it was just that he was there from practically the beginning and he loved every minute of it. Thompson had even drafted his own son into the Company, doing the same job he had done when he started out: the bag and tag.

Thompson had been with the Company since he was in his early twenties. He was a man Linderman felt he could trust. He was a man Linderman felt, if he had an ability, would have been up to Linderman’s own high standard. Thompson was a man the founders could trust with their secrets - he was cut from the same cloth.

Linderman leaned in close to Thompson as the two talked in the Petrelli’s foyer. “This is why I am confiding in you, because we trust you, because we know you are one of us – or somewhat... like one of us.”

“Come on, now?” Thompson asked in his cool serious tones. “What mother hasn’t dreamt of her son becoming President?”

“I’m not talking about any mother, “Linderman smiled slyly as his eyes caught sight of Angela descending the staircase.

She looked regal and in control as she was able to command a room with very little movement and no words whatsoever. Angela almost glided toward the men with so much confidence one would think it would bust out the door and the ceiling – she was at her commanding best.

“I’d like you to meet Angela Petrelli.” Linderman presented her with great flair.

“Mr. Thompson...” she said softly, taking his gaze as she approached him. She stopped in front of him and looked him dead in the eye. “Can you believe?”


                                                    Petrelli & Linderman

The movers hurried around Linderman’s gallery. The curator marched around at a quickened pace, being sure that nothing would be damaged in transit, or even before it left the building. He was a high strung man; his energy was nothing but pent up anxiety.

While, as always, Linderman was calm, cool, and collected as he watched over the proceedings with pride. Linderman took a wilted strawberry from a dish and it grew healthy in his hand. He popped it into his mouth with glee.

Angela stood behind him, walking from painting to painting, sketch to sketch and taking them in, a small chain holding her reading glasses around her neck. She paused when she reached a black and white sketch of the mysterious exploding man

A man came up to Linderman and handed him a phone.

“Yes Hello..” Linderman spoke in very cordial tones. “Ms. Deveaux,, thank you for calling me back. I love the Mendezes .I am very interested in more of them...” He strolled over to Angela and they exchanged looks. “Yes, as many as you can – the whole lot. “

A man walked past holding a painting in brown paper. Linderman called the man over and checked the tag. “No, that one stays. All the lots in section five stay.” He stressed.

Angela eyed Linderman for a moment while he wasn’t looking.

Linderman went back to his phone call as the man with the painting walked away. “Yes...and I hope I’ll have first... crack at anything new from the artist. Yes, yes I think he’s a real talent – he has real promise...an artist for... the future.” He paused and listened for a moment. “I look forward to receiving your next call.” Linderman hung up the phone. A man approached and Linderman handed the phone over to the man in exchange for a small square piece of paper, it was an invitation.

Angela and Linderman together looked at the sketch of the exploding man.

“What do you think?” He handed Angela the invitation. “A reunion of sorts.” He said smugly.

Angela gave Linderman an odd look and took her reading glasses from around her neck. She set them on her nose so she could read what she had been handed. After a moment, Angela set her glasses off her nose and let them drop around her neck. “You think they’ll all come?” Angela handed the invitation back to Linderman.

“I do.” He nodded his head slightly. “Old friends who’ve drifted apart will want to see each other again, despite our differences. That’s all we’re doing. Seeing each other again, all in one place, after all these years. Harry’s already coming, Charles and Carlos of course, I think I’ve even gotten Victoria to show up.” Linderman seemed very proud of himself.

“Victoria?” Angela raised her eyebrows and slightly gestured with her head.

A man drifted over to Linderman and showed him the clipboard in his hand.

Linderman quickly read what was on the clipboard and then handed it back to the man. “I need these to be in New York by Monday.”

The man with the clipboard left Angela and Linderman’s side.

“Come, yes? But will they stay?” Angela asked all knowingly.

“Why not? It’s a topic none of them can refuse.” He smiled slyly. “Saving the world.” He grinned large at Angela and she grinned back slyly.

Angela Petrelli and Daniel Linderman both knew they each held secrets from each other, but as much as they both had their own agendas, they both needed each other. Their jockeying for top position was to begin. For control of the world, for control of Nathan and control of what was to come next. As the painting of Nathan Petrelli standing in the oval office as the next President of The United States was wrapped in brown paper and prepared for shipping.

Next Chapter:: The Photo, Victoria, Peter manifests and it all begins.